WHAT THE BUTLER SAW

Who: GRADS
Where: Dolphin Theatre, UWA
When: 8pm 23/9/2005
What: Sordid farce from the soon-to-be-bludgeoned-to-death Joe Orton
Why: Threats of conjugal favours being withheld if I failed to attend. (Not entirely true)

Well, if the butler saw what I saw on Friday last, he needs his eyes checked or his head read. I thought IÂ’d indulge a little too firmly in the house convivialities prior to the show, but IÂ’m led to believe I wasnÂ’t the only one to suffer the demented visions this play provokes, so I canÂ’t blame it on the unwitting ingestion of psychedelics. I can, however, blame it on the crazed imagination of Stephen Lee and his cast of lunatic stooges.

Orton’s farce apparently flopped at the time of its premiere- and I think I know why. There’s not much “whoops, matron my trousers fell through the pantry. More tea, vicar?” in WTBS. Well, check out the poster- there’s more emphasis on the PHWOOAAR! Factor. As evidenced by the opening five minutes, which sees the heroine on the piece reduced to her underwear, and being subtly drooled over by the hero. It’s like Carry On Without Any Inhibitions. Of course, this is precisely the highbrow entertainment demanded by Generation Zzzzz today, so the choice is apt.

The cast rollicked through the opening night production, with only pause for the occasional hiccup with miscreant props and recalcitrant business. Paul Treasure starts as a bear-like figure, but is soon reduced to a sympathetic putty-like creature by the idiocy of his circumstance. The elfin Jessyca Hutchens not only spends most of the play near naked (I couldnÂ’t afford tickets to WTBS Uncut- Jarrod Buttery had bought them all and was scalping them cruelly) but a good deal of it sedated and/or screaming. Not easy to do both at the same time. Scott Sheridan attacks his role with gusto giving us something akin to Norman Wisdom on crack- which is what the show requires. Tony Petani sets new records for the achievement of those born without gorm. His Sgt Match is bizarre in the way he falls into the mania of the situation without blinking or pause. Jenny McCannÂ’s portrayal as the nymphomaniac harridan was too close to home for me to consider it acting- but by God itÂ’s convincing.

The most FRIGHTENING portrayal in recent history belongs not to that Welsh pretender Hopkins, but the demented Grant Malcolm as Dr Rance. His Murnau-esque take on the character (eyes a-twitch, shoulders a-hunch, voice a-boom) is hysterically funny and unnerving at the same time- and consequently does little to counter my lack of faith in the Western Health System.

Bravura doesnÂ’t begin to describe the efforts of cast and crew for this show. And if opening night had hiccups, these will be ironed out and the show will become unfathomably slick. This is a play that will reward a repeated viewing- theyÂ’re getting more risque as the season progresses. Well, thatÂ’s the rumour IÂ’m going to be spreadingÂ….

El